Ghosts
by HanuuEshe
Summary: The return of lost friends isn't necessarily a cause for celebration...Janto, Martha/Tom, Owen/Tosh, and Gwen/Rhys. Featuring Mickey, the Master, Dr. Donna, and Letitia. Spoilers for all. Warning: death, violence, mild gore. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: The return of lost friends isn't necessarily a cause for celebration. Dalek Caan's breaking of the quantum seal had unforseen consequences, and now the Torchwood team, with the help of the sometimes lucid Dr. Donna, need to set things right before the year that never was will be.  
Spoilers: Through S4 of Doctor Who, and S2 of Torchwood. Speculation for casting of S3 of Torchwood.  
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Owen/Tosh, Martha/Tom, hints of Gwen/Rhys, Jack/Dr. Donna UST  
Genre: Dark, angsty, and sarcasm filled. More Torchwood than Doctor Who.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon when Jack walked in on Owen in the med lab, cursing profusely as he bandaged up his fingers. This in and of itself wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary, except for the fact that Owen was dead- well and truly dead, and disintegrated, with no way of returning. Jack blinked down at his form for a long, disbelieving moment before exclaiming "Owen!"

For his part, he look just as shocked to see Jack as Jack was to see him. His eyes widened comically, and he jumped to his feet, wincing as he did so. Jack noted distantly that his fingers were burnt to a sickly brown color between the bandages.

"Captain! What-"

And just like that he was gone. Jack stared at the spot where he'd been for a moment before throwing down the new medical files on the nearest elevated surface and running from the room.

* * *

Martha was settling back into Torchwood well enough- it was a more intimate setting than UNIT, but more clinical than the TARDIS, which suited her just fine. She'd missed them- Jack's playfulness, Ianto's dry wit, Gwen's fiery spirit.

She'd missed Owen's scathing remarks and Toshiko's professionalism as well, but there was nothing to be done there, she thought with a small pang of loss. Of course, this was followed almost at once by a small gasp from the doorway, and the sound of falling papers.

Tosh stood in the doorway, open-mouthed and staring, a file folder slumped on the floor in front of her feet.

"M-M-Martha?" she asked in a reverent whisper. "Martha Jones?"

At a loss for words, Martha nodded. Tosh wheeled around and bolted down the hallway, snapping her out of her shock.

"Hey, wait!" she cried, taking off after the other woman. Tosh was, however, nowhere to be found, and a few minutes later saw Martha back at her station, frowning, lost in thought. She failed to notice that the pile of papers Tosh had dropped had lingered for several moments before it to disappeared.

* * *

Ianto had been manning the reception desk for only an hour when she stormed in through the door. Putting on his best 'the customer is always right' face, he began to greet her, but he got only as far as "Hello, and welcome to-" before she cut him off.

"Yes, you can bloody well help me!" she yelled. "You can start by telling me what the hell I'm doing in Cardiff, of all places!"

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't have access to that sort of information," Ianto replied dryly.

"Really? What a coincidence, neither do I!" The woman threw her arms up into the air and exited as swiftly as she came.

* * *

Of course, no one said anything. They had a stressful job. A stressful job that happened to be based near a rift in the time-space continuum. If they sometimes saw things, well, as long as they tried their best to catch up on some sleep and the visions didn't interfere with their duties, than there wasn't anything to fuss about.

No one had bothered to tell Mickey about this rule, however, nor had anyone mentioned exactly whose position he was filling, so when he dragged a struggling Toshiko out of the bowels of the archives and into the main hub, it took everyone by surprise.

"I found her rooting around the basement," Mickey explained to the room at large. "She says she works here!"

Ianto stared. Gwen stared. Jack stared. Martha stared. Mickey shifted uncomfortably. Toshiko opened her mouth, and promptly disappeared, leaving his hand encircling empty air.

It wasn't long before chaos broke out.

* * *

Ianto was only half concentrating when the woman came to visit him another time, and therefore only noticed her after she has marched up to his desk and placed her hands flat against its surface, causing Ianto to jump.

"Oi," she said. "Listen carefully, Jones, because this is important, and if we're lucky I won't have another chance at a go at this for a long while…"

Ianto listened, but the woman did nothing other than stared blankly straight through him.

"Miss…" he interrupted quietly. The woman blinked, and focused on his face again, rather than some invisible point beyond it.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I work here."

She looked around in frank bewilderment. "What am I doing here?"

"You said you had something important to tell me," Ianto replied carefully.

"I did?" she asked. "Oh, bugger all. I don't suppose I actually got around to telling me what it was I needed to tell you, did I?"

"No." he answered, getting up. "Miss, are you in any trouble?"

"You know what?" she said with a slightly hysterical laugh. "I haven't the foggiest. Much like I haven't the foggiest as to what I'm doing in bloody Wales!"

She turned to leave.

"Miss?" Ianto called after her. "Do you want me to call a cab for you?"

"No," she replied over her shoulder. "I seem to have no trouble taking the train. No trouble at all!"

Ianto watched her stride across the Plass agitatedly, and made a mental note to ask for her name next time she showed up.

* * *

"Hey!" Owen shouted. Martha and Gwen wheeled around. "Shouldn't the pair of you be in Russia by now?"

Martha and Gwen blinked as one.

"Oh bloody hell, I'm hallucinating again, aren't I?" He asked.

"Actually-" Martha began, but Owen cut her off.

"Don't answer that, I already know the answer," he said tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his good hand. "Although, really, as far as hallucinations go, you're really dull, you know that?"

Gwen and Martha exchanged looks. Gwen opened her mouth but was once again cut off by Owen.

"I mean, you don't need to go asking me to open the Rift or anything, but something a bit more normal than staring at me would be nice."

"Owen-" Gwen tried again.

"And really, if I'm going to have a nervous breakdown, why can't it at least be one I can embrace fully?" he asked.

"Because we're not hallucinations!" Martha cried.

"Yeah, you would say that if-"

"Owen, you prick, shut up!" Gwen yelled.

Contrarily, Owen grinned. "Now that's more-"

"We all think _you're_ the apparition," Martha explained.

He froze.

"You died," Gwen whispered. "You and Tosh. Just a few months ago."

"Well, technically, you died several months before that," Martha supplied, more to fill the awkward silence as Owen processed this information than anything else. "But there was a mishap with the Resurrection Gauntlet and you sort of ended up being a kind of zombie. I mean, you could walk, and talk, and didn't have undeniable cravings for human flesh or anything, but your heart wasn't beating and you couldn't breathe, so…"

"I-what-how-_zombie_?"

He disappeared before he could finish spluttering.

* * *

It had been a quiet day for Ianto, and like he did on all quiet days, he was searching some of the weirder, if more accurate, nooks of the internet. And like he was prone to do when the work load was slow, Jack was distracting him.

Jack5066: Anything interesting on your end?

IantoJones: Numerous sightings of small black balls flying through the skies for seconds at a time. How about our ghost problem?

Jack5066: I have Mickey working on it. He says it doesn't seem to be coming from the Rift, but he's getting readings similar to the transdimensional fractures the Cybermen exploited.

IantoJones: Are they the Tosh and Owen from that universe, then?

Jack5066: No. The readings are too different to be coming from that reality. Mickey says Toshiko is dead there any way.

IantoJones: So we've come in contact with a new one, then.

Jack5066: Seems to be the case.

There was a small pause, before Jack typed:

Jack5066: I wonder if they have a Ianto.

IantoJones: Stop right there, sir.

Jack5066: Stop what?

IantoJones: I can already tell where this conversation is going, and the answer is no.

Jack5066: And where would that be?

Ianto spared a moment to roll his eyes at the unseeing computer screen. Honestly.

IantoJones: Where your mind would naturally wander in this situation.

Jack5066: I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about 0:)

IantoJones: That is the most insincere thing you're ever written.

Jack5066: What would be wrong with a threesome?

Ianto took a minute ponder an answer, which would have had to include a juxtaposition of 51st century morals to the contemporary ones, the inherent nihilism of having sex with yourself, the possible spatial ramifications of having more than one version of the same person in close physical proximity, and the reams of issues their relationship had already.

By the time he'd decided against opening any of those cans of worms, Jack had added another line.

Jack5066: Technically speaking, we wouldn't even be adding another person.

IantoJones: True, but that might not stop me from being jealous and strangling him with his own tie in bed.

Jack5066: Okay, now I'm turned on.

IantoJones: Breathing turns you on.

Jack5066: Actually, I think I just said NOT breathing turns me on.

The door to the reception area swished open, and in walked the woman.

IantoJones: Redhead's back.

"Hello again!" he said cheerfully. "Do you remem-"

"Dalek Caan," the woman said, loudly and without preamble. "Quantum locks breaking down, and bogeymen in the sky. What am I forgetting?"

Ianto paled. "I don't know. But I think you should really talk to my boss…"

"The drums!" she shouted triumphantly. Jack entered the room at a run, his coat swishing out impressively behind him. "Here come the drums!"

And with that she collapsed on the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

Donna Noble smiled gratefully up at the receptionist as he handed her a cup of steaming coffee. The outrageously good-looking guy paced agitatedly behind him, looking very...stormy. In a manly, broody way; it was a good look for him, she decided, although she had to admit that she'd likely be hard pressed to find a look that didn't suit him.

She took a tentative sip of her coffee, and was extremely surprised to find that wonderful. She eyed the receptionist speculatively; it wasn't often you found a man who could make a good cup of coffee. Although, that particular trait didn't hold the appeal it once had, after Lance had left her at the altar for that skinny exterminator.

"Do you remember anything more?" Ridiculously Handsome asked. "Anything at all?"

"Anything more..?" Donna looked at the receptionist, who gave her a searching look.

"You more or less came back into the lobby, rambled incoherently about locks breaking and drums coming before collapsing on the floor," he supplied.

"Oh," Donna said, disappointed. She'd been hoping against hope that the…whatever inside of her had had something important to do- a mission. Something life saving. Nope, turns out she was just a garden variety lunatic. "Blimey, I was hoping for something a bit more sensible than that."

The receptionist smiled sympathetically, but Hunk's agitation seemed to grow. "Oh, it made sense," he ground out. "It made sense. But we need more information."

"I'm sorry, it- whatever I have doesn't work like that. It comes out at odd intervals, and I can never remember-"

"We need more information, Donna!" He yelled. The receptionist tensed besides her; she could feel the heat rising in her face.

"Oi, excuse me for inconveniencing you with my _alternate personality's_ inability to give me a freakin' clue!" she yelled, standing up. "I don't have to take this shit; I'm a temp! Whatever alien or ghost or thing is possessing me is just going to have to pick someone else because I-"

And very suddenly she was sitting down again, her coffee drained, and both men looking at her like she'd started breathing fire.

"It came out again, didn't it?" she asked.

"Yes," Tall, Dark, and Handsome replied, much calmer than he had been. "You said that you had a grocery list that would give us more information?"

"I- really?" she rooted around in the back pocket of her jeans, coming up with the shopping. Granddad and Mum thought she had just gone to town, rather than taking yet another trip to Wales. "I don't know what good it will do you- it doesn't make much sense to me."

Blue Eyes snatched the paper out of her hand and began to read, his frown deepening and marring his features. The receptionist peered over his shoulder, apparently more confused by this whole thing than anxious. She sympathized; she'd read that list through, trying to make sense of the words which weren't hers. She had the bloody thing memorized by now.

Bread. Raisins. Apples. Bananas. _He burnt the forests in South America, keep an eye on them, you'll know it's close then._ Cherry Soda Pop. Cereal. Tea. _People are going to start dying soon, Torchwood will have the biggest heads up._ Lipstick. Soap. Mascara. _The idiot is going to have the greatest amount of knowledge, but they'll still need help. No one else has any sort of experience with this sort of thing._ Chicken Noodle Soup. Chocolate Ice Cream. Sugar. Honey. _Donna if you don't do something, over a tenth of the world's population will die. More than._ Frozen Pizza. Spaghetti. Chips. _Donna please, I need you to start going to Cardiff, I can't get there all on my own._

She'd given up on the shopping at that point, choosing instead to tentatively write out a question: _Who are you? _

When she'd next looked down, she had her answer: _I'm you, Donna._

Well, let it never be said that Donna couldn't take her own advice. She'd bought a ticket Cardiff and had actually managed to make it into Wales before blacking out once more.

"Fuck," the taller man swore.

"Jack," the receptionist said slowly. "While whatever this means is obviously pretty bad, but a something a little more specific than that would be nice."

"If you're handing out explanations, I'll take one of those too, please," Donna added.

"Oh, nothing out of the ordinary," Jack sighed, with a smile that was more of a grimace. "Just the end of the world."

* * *

Martha waited in the conference room, trying not to appear worried. Physically, she could find nothing wrong with Donna a good night's rest and a healthy meal couldn't cure, but that didn't stop the Doctor's warning to keep her away from anything alien at all if they could help it from ringing through her ears. It was the only reason she consented to letting Jack and Ianto question her without supervision- they'd travelled together, worked together, for just a bit too long for her presence to not stir up something.

The door swung open, and Jack strode in, followed by a slightly annoyed Ianto.

"What's happening?" Mickey asked. Ianto took this as his cue to roll his eyes expressively.

"As far as I can tell? A temp's grocery list is predicting apocalypse by drums, and no one except Jack know exactly what that means, including the aforementioned temp."

"Drums?" Martha asked, gripping the edge of her seat. "As in-"

"Here come the drums!" Jack sang.

"Oh, no," Martha groaned. This wasn't possible. The Doctor had promised that there'd be no repercussions, no bleed through. Only those on the Valiant would remember what happened, because for the rest of the world it never did.

"Okay, everyone except Jack and Martha," Ianto corrected himself.

"Jack," Gwen asked cautiously. "'Here come the drums'? What does that mean?"

"I mean the Prime Minister's a psychotic alien twat," Owen answered her.

"When'd you get here?" Mickey demanded.

"About a minute ago. Any chance of a cuppa, teaboy?" Owen asked. Ianto inclined his head towards the coffee pot behind him. Owen's eyes lit up. "Oh thank God, we ran out of coffee on our end ages and ages ago…"

"When I travelled with the Doctor," Jack began, causing everyone to jump. "We created this timeline by accident- your timeline, I'm guessing. Where Harold Saxon took over the world from onboard the Valiant."

Owen nodded over the rim of his mug. "I take it that didn't happen here?"

"Well yes- and no," Martha answered. "That timeline was being held in place by a paradox machine, to allow future humans to slaughter their own decedents. Once the paradox machine was destroyed, time reversed itself, wiping out every event of the last year."

"You fixed it? Just like that?" Owen asked, brows raised. "That's handy."

"Obviously, it isn't as fixed as they thought," Mickey interrupted.

"The timelines are merging," Ianto guessed. "That year that never happened, and this timeline are beginning to converge."

"You said that he took over the world?" Gwen asked. "But we've only seen evidence of this merging here at Torchwood."

"Cardiff is a weak point. The rift, remember?" Martha said. "If there was a shift in the timeline, we would be the first to know, yeah?"

"Yeah," Jack replied. "But it won't be long before it shows up elsewhere. The merges will get longer, too."

"Are getting longer, case in point," Ianto answered. "When this first started we could barely exchange three words before going back to our separate realities. Now, we're brainstorming."

"How does this work, anyway? I mean, so far it's just that Tosh and I get pulled into your timeline every so often. Does that mean that eventually our timeline will completely overcome yours or that the two will meet somewhere in the middle."

"It all depends on the paradox machine," Jack explained. "When it was destroyed-"

"Well this is new," Tosh commented, walking into the conference room.

"Tosh, welcome to the universe where the Toclafane never existed. And Ianto's still around to make us all coffee!" Owen greeted her cheerfully.

"Ooh!" Tosh said appreciatively, crossing over to stand next to him. She looked very skinny and pale, Martha noted with a frown, as though she hadn't had a decent meal or sleep in ages.

"Am I dead in your timeline, then?" Ianto asked.

"Nah. You're coordinating resistance efforts in Brazil. Well, you'resupposed to be _hiding_ in Brazil so the Master won't find you, but you're too anal retentive to stop organizing things, so…" Owen shrugged in a very exasperated manner, but Martha could see a glimmer of something she might call pride in his eyes.

"The who?" Gwen questioned, wrinkling her nose.

"The Master. It's Saxon's real name; it saves time when the bondage starts," Jack explained. "In answer to your earlier question, what'll happen when the timeline converges depends on the paradox machine. If it's still largely intact when they merge, than thing will be more or less what they were; chances are most of humanity won't even remember this line ever existed. In a slightly less fatalistic scenario, the timelines merge with the paradox machine either broken, dismantled, or otherwise inoperable, and there will be a mix of people who remember this timeline and people who remember the other. The Master will still be able to cow most people, but with the Toclafane unable to fire, it'll be a _hell_ of a lot easier for us to defeat him."

"But how'd this guy get in power any way?" Mickey asked, eyes darting back and forth as he struggled to make sense of the conversation. "I mean, if he can't kill anyone himself…"

"Oh he can do it himself. He just prefers to make other people do it for him so he can sit back and watch," Jack informed them, before changing the subject again. "Moving right along; Tosh, Owen, I want you to keep an eye on things in your end. If anything should bleed through from our timeline to yours, make a note of it and let me know as soon as possible. Ianto, Mickey, you're on computer duty. Find out where the leak is coming from, then find a way to stop it. Gwen, I want you to monitor the news feed, look for anything random and destructive and set to a soundtrack. And no, I'm not kidding about that last part. Martha, I need you to-"

"I need to find Tom," Martha interrupted. The first time that timeline had played out, he'd died. He'd died, protecting her. She wasn't about to give him the opportunity to do so again.

"Martha-"

"He was active in the resistance in that timeline. It's how we met. He's psychically sensitive, could see right through the perception filter; if things start breaking down, he'll likely be one of the first to show symptoms," she explained calmly.

"We need you to keep an eye on Donna," Jack replied. "She has the Doctor's memories; we're going to need those to fix this. You need to find a way to stabilize her, prolong the amount of time she can remember for."

" I'm just going to check up on him first, set him up with a mobile, and then I'll come straight back here. Donna needs to rest, anyway."

"We don't have for rest. For any of us. I'm sorry, but-"

"Jack, in that timeline, he died."

"In that timeline, a lot of people died. Martha we need-"

"I'm leaving. I'll be back in an hour." Try and stop me, she thought viciously, pivoting on her heel and striding out of the conference room. Just before the door swung shut behind her, she thought she heard Tosh say. "Oh. That's how she'll be able to defeat him."


	3. Chapter 3

Mickey hadn't really expected to get along with Ianto Jones. He was uncomfortable to be around; unabashedly emotional, prone to fits of crying, slightly snide and aloof, and, yeah, there was that small matter of his sleeping with their very male boss.

Then he found out about the Cybermen; about Canary Warf and Lisa. And if there was one thing Mickey had truly mastered from his time in the other universe, it was the art of creating a stable partnership based on mutual hatred of the Cybers.

"So, you really didn't know what this is all about then?" he asked. The Welshman shrugged.

"You were right there with me the entire time," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but… you and the boss, you're close, yeah? Did he ever mention-"

"Jack and I don't really talk. Well, not about anything in the past, at any rate. Ours is a very in the moment sort of relationship," Ianto explained.

"Say no more," Mickey said hurriedly, bringing up the files from other self-corrected timelines. "Please."

The corners of Ianto's mouth twitched upwards, but other than that he gave no indication that he had picked up on the other man's discomfort. "Where do you want to start?"

"Well, what's the biggest causality event you've had?"

"Invasion of the Cybermen, no doubt about it," Ianto answered promptly. "Beyond that, we also have that whole big mess with Abaddon, and there was this one time in London when…"

As he listed off the events, Mickey began to pull up different maps, overlaying them with one another.

"…and so, for the rest of us it seemed like they'd been missing for three hours, but for them, they'd all paired up and had grandchildren before they could figure out how to turn the machine off." Ianto finished. "So, what do we have to work with?"

"This is a map of all the week points in the time-space continuum on Earth," Mickey began.

"The darker the color is, the weaker the fabric?" Ianto asked.

"Yep."

There was a small pause as both men considered the map for a moment.

"Cardiff's pretty oblique, isn't it?" Ianto observed.

"Yeah," Mickey said. "Hence the dead people hanging around being useless."

He turned around to where Owen and Tosh had been standing a moment ago, just in time to watch their mugs crash onto the ground.

"Right," Ianto sighed. "You figure out how to relock the quantum lock, and I'll get a broom."

* * *

"And I'm not expecting you to call me every hour on the hour or anything, but if you could check a few times a day until this is through, that would be great. Also, my family might stop by if this lasts longer than a week, and I've told my parents not to fuss about but you know what they're like. Tish has promised to run interference if things get too much, and, and-"

Tom pulled Martha back down onto to the bed next to him.

"Martha, breath. This'll all pass and pretty soon we'll be listening to an explanation as to how strange the water supply and weather balloons are," he soothed.

Martha laughed. "You aren't supposed to know about that, you know?"

"I don't know anything. I'm just saying, whoever is in charge of your PR department is either in desperate need of a vacation, or of replacing. Drugs in the water supply, my foot," he grumbled. There was the tiniest trace of resentment in his voice, at the fact that Martha was a part of something that was beyond his ken, but it was only the tiniest hint. He was okay with things as they were, really. After all, how many people had fiancés who saved the world?

"I'll be sure to log a complaint," Martha replied, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. "But, seriously Tom, you'll call regularly and let me know everything's alright, yeah?"

"Of course I will," he assured her. "Even if the world ends."

Martha stiffened.

"Which is likely what's going to happen, isn't it?" he sighed.

"In the worst case scenario," Martha confirmed reluctantly. "But we're hoping it won't get that far. We've this specialist who'll be able to help, yeah? But she's kind of in a bad way. I've got to go see if I can get her back up to snuff."

"Well, you better get to it, then," Tom said reluctantly. Martha turned her face up towards his, and they kissed slowly. "Go on dear, save the world."

"I love you," she said, standing up.

"I love you, too," he replied. Then a thought occurred to him. "Martha?"

She stuck her head around the doorframe. "Yeah?"

"What should I be on the lookout for?" he asked. "I'm at the clinic tomorrow, I can keep an eye out for oddly-behaving patients."

Martha smiled. "It'll mostly be psychological, not physical. People who come talking about either Japan or the Amazon rainforests burning, anyone who mentions the word Toclafane, and if you get the urge to vote Saxon, that'd be a sign as well."

"Saxon? That idiot?" he asked incredulously. "What, was he an alien or something?"

Martha's smile froze. "I've got to go Tom," she said, sounding strange.

"I'll call you," he replied. She disappeared from view, and he tilted his head up to look wonderingly up at the ceiling. "We voted an alien Prime Minister. Good lord, the times really are changing."

* * *

"Come in," Jack called just before Ianto's knuckled made contact with the door. Raising an eyebrow, the younger man walked inside.

"We need more information, sir," he stated bluntly.

Jack didn't look up from his paperwork. "If you and Mick are having trouble getting into the files-"

"The files we need don't exist, because they were never recorded in this reality," Ianto explained.

Jack looked up this time, sparing a moment to study him. Hands clasped behind his back, polite mask firmly in place, his eyes…

Just for a moment, his suit became ruffled and blood trickled down from a wound on his head and he looked back at Jack from the other side of a barred door.

Jack blinked, and the vision faded. "How much do you need to know?"

"As much as you know," he replied evenly.

Jack felt his heart leap into his throat, but was relatively sure he had schooled his features well enough that it didn't show. "That might take a while. A year's a pretty long amount of time, quite a bit happened. Could you narrow it down a bit?"

Ianto looked as though he was considering pressing the point, but the relented, coming over to lean against the desk by Jack's side. "We're looking for the locations of things which would have given off a lot of energy. We already know that some part of South America was burned to the ground-"

"The Amazon rainforest. The entire forest," Jack corrected. The Master had found Ianto because of that. Pure dumb luck on his part; he'd assumed the other man had died in India. "He also burnt the whole of the Japanese archipelago, and blew up a good part of the Himalayas besides."

Ianto frowned. "What the hell did he do that for?"

His excuse for Japan had been two-fold: Martha was there, and he'd 'needed' to punish Tosh for nearly succeeding in her attempt to sabotage the Valiant. The Himalayas had been justified as revenge for Jack's continued insubordination, and yet again as another chance to capture Martha, even if they did end up with Gwen instead. The Amazon had burnt without warning, or explanation; collecting Ianto from out of the ashes had been an afterthought. All he remembered about that time was the Master's grinning face as he stared at the Doctor, watching closely for any sign of emotion on the Time Lord's deadened features.

"He was crazy," Jack answered. "It was fun for him."

"But he must have had some plan," Ianto insisted. "He wouldn't have gone through all the trouble of running for Prime Minister if all he wanted was random death and destruction."

"He wanted to create a new Time Lord Empire," Jack answered with a shrug.

"Time Lord?" Ianto questioned with a raised eyebrow. "I thought you said the Doctor was-"

"The Doctor's friendly. The Master, not so much," Jack explained. "And from what I gather, neither one of them was a typical Time Lord."

"Do they all have names like that? The Doctor, the Master…"

Jack shrugged. "I honestly don't know."

"Oh, so you're not the expert in all things Time Lord, are you?" There was a teasing lit in his voice that made his accent deepen. Jack felt a lazy grin spread across his face, despite himself.

"Nope," he answered, casually moving his hand so that it was resting lightly on top of Ianto's. A soft smile graced the other man's face, and he leaned closer.

"And why is that, Jack?"

"Well, don't get me wrong, I love the Doctor," he began. He saw a tiny, squashed-before-it-was-even-really-there flicker of jealousy in the Welshman's eyes, and allowed his smile to grow just the tiniest bit more predatory. "But I've got other things to fill my time with now than Time Lords."

"Really?" Ianto asked. He leaned in closer still, their foreheads bumping together.

"Yes. Take the Welsh for example," Jack stated. Ianto let out a small bark of laughter that sent a puff of warm air into Jack's mouth. "Confusing creatures. Very interesting use of vowels. Annoyingly efficient, too."

"Is that so?"

Jack nodded. "You have no idea. But, there is something about the way they fill out a-"

There was a pointed knock from the doorway. Both men broke apart with a hurried, practiced air, and Mickey came through the door.

"Are you finished yet?" he asked. "We're sort of on a clock here."

"Right," Ianto coughed. "Anything you forgot, Jack?"

"He built this huge fleet of spaceships. The shipyards stretched along the entire Eurasian coastline, and each vessel was outfitted with a black hole converter," he supplied.

Ianto's mouth formed a small 'O' and Mickey let out a low whistle.

"That's-how- where did he even get the material?" he demanded.

"He more or less gutted the entirety of central Europe," Jack explained. "And, also, completely destroyed the moon."

There was a long, shocked silence.

"Well," Ianto said at last. "I think that would count as a massive energy expenditure, don't you think?"

"Yeah, sounds like it to me," Mickey agreed. "Back to work?"

"Back to work," Jack ordered.

"Back to work," Ianto repeated, walking out of the office. Jack watched him leave with an appreciative eye, memories of a timeline that never happened pushed safely back in a dark corner of his mind.

* * *

Donna slept fitfully.

Actually, she wasn't sure she was sleeping. Could you be asleep and aware at the same time? Perhaps she was merely floating. Zonked out. Zonk. Weird sort of verb that. You don't get many verbs in the English language that begin with 'z'. Well, not until the 42nd century at least. To Zane, to zephyr, to zeal, to zap, to zone, to…

'What are you doing, you great daft thing?' she chided herself. 'You don't need to know about 42nd century verbs. You don't need anything from the 42nd century. Let it go, let it go…'

Donna was sitting up, concentrating, when Martha returned.

"Welcome back, Miss Noble," Martha greeted her. Donna didn't reply, choosing instead to stare fiercely ahead. "Donna?"

"Shh," the other woman admonished.

Martha gave her a strange look. "Alright," she agreed tacitly. "What for? What are you doing?"

"I'm forgetting," Donna whispered. "So that I can remember.

The author would like to draw your attention to the button at the bottom left-hand corner of the screen, which, if pressed, will make her very happy and entice her to write more. Cheers!


	4. Chapter 4

"How's Tom doing?" Jack asked as Martha entered his office.

"Fine, for now," Martha answered. "He's on clinic duty today, and promised he'd keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary."

"And your family?"

"Freaking out, understandably," Martha replied. Mum and Dad had taken the day off, setting up the house with supplies and settled in for the long haul. Tish had run off to the loo, vomited, and the promptly announced that as long as there was a chance that nothing would come of it, she wasn't going to change her plans.

"You know, the offer for retcon still stands," Jack reminded her.

"I know. And they know. They want those memories, for some reason," Martha replied.

Jack looked like he was going to point out that she could have taken the retcon as well, before thinking better of it. They had a job to do, protecting the Earth, and retaining the knowledge of what the Master had done to the planet was a part of that job, unpleasant though it may be.

"I'm not here to talk about my family, anyway," Martha said. "I'm here about Donna."

"Is she done meditating yet?" Jack asked.

Martha hesitated. "Not exactly _done_, I'd say…"

Jack raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe you should see this for yourself."

* * *

"Jack!"

She had a glimpse of wide blue eyes before she was too close to the captain to see him properly. He let out a small surprised 'oof' and she giggled.

"Jack!" she said again, voice muffled because her face was buried in his chest. And a very nice chest it was too. "Jack, that's not your real name, why are you still using it after all this time?"

"Um, what?"

"I mean, it must have been what, two hundred years? One fifty? That's a really long time to hold onto a name that isn't your own," she observed. Jack didn't have an answer for this, so, in true Harkness form merely held her closer so that they were hugging properly. She relaxed into his embrace for a moment, relishing the feel of his body against hers, before some annoying, spoilsport part of her began to chant wrong wrong wrong WRONG!

She pulled back suddenly. In order to cover the movement, she made a great show of appearing to pull a banana from behind his ear. Good on Martha, leaving those here last time she was in. "Bananas are good!" she crowed. "Remember that? We got chased all through London by gas mask zombies?"

"How could I forget our first date, Doctor?" he asked, moving in closer. Too close! Wrong! And _hello_, she wasn't the Doctor, she was-

"Dr. Donna!" she snapped. "I'm Dr. Donna. The Doctor, and Donna together. Just because he's all alien and emo doesn't make her any less brilliant."

"Sorry," Jack apologized.

"You should be. You wouldn't hug her," she sniffed. "And also, you never explained to him what was wrong with a sonic screwdriver. I mean, a laser screwdriver I could see-"

Ooh, bad memories there. Jack looked ill. She shouldn't bring that up. Not until she needed to. Give him time to come to terms with it on his own. Not that he would. Bloody stubborn, Jack was.

"Well, sonic is better than laser anyway," she huffed.

"Never claimed otherwise," Jack agreed.

"Never said you did," she replied. "Of course, you don't need to, do you? You communicate it eyebrow raises and eye rolls. And smiles. You have a really stunning smile, you know that? I hope your boyfriend appreciates that. I do. Donna did. The Doctor's oblivious to most things which don't smack him upside of the head. Part of how he came to love Rose. Broke his heart doing that. Broke Martha's too. Blimey, that wasn't fair to her. That really wasn't fair. But she has her Tom, and then the Doctor found Donna and nothing ever happened so all is well!"

Jack nodded. She felt her face fall.

"Oh God, why am I prattling like this! I don't prattle like this! Even he doesn't prattle like this! And he's insane!" she felt her face flush and her heart rate quicken. She tried staying silent, but found that it was painful to do so. Pressure built in her chest and spiked into her brain.

"Oh," she whimpered, crumpling. Jack caught her before she fell, holding her steady.

"It's wrong, it's wrong, it's wrong wrong wrong…"

She wasn't sure if she was talking about Jack or the timelines or Gallifrey or herself or just the universe in general. Just that it was wrong.

"I have to meditate," she blurted out, tearing herself out of his embrace. "I'm too fragmented right now, it's like after a regeneration gone wrong, my head's just buzzing around…"

Jack nodded. "Do you need anything?"

"I need you to get out, Captain Hotness, you're distracting me."

She heard the sound of the door closing, and then the universe took her away.

* * *

Both Joneses were waiting outside the door.

"Martha."

"Jack."

"What was that?"

"I believe she called herself Dr. Donna."

"Yes, she did do that, didn't she?"

"That's what I heard, sir."

"Ianto?"

"Yes?"

"What exactly is in that coffee of yours?"

"Crack cocaine, sir."

"…actually that would explain a lot."

* * *

Mickey swore at the computer, resisting the urge to lash out. These readings made no sense, no sense at all. If he didn't know better, he'd say the mainframe was mocking him.

"Trouble with the computer?"

Mickey very carefully did not jump, and turned to face the speaker.

"Yeah, Toshiko, right?" he asked.

"Yep. Want me to have a look?" she offered.

"Please," he said, stepping aside.

Toshiko stepped up to the controls, a small frown forming on her face as she took in the display. "This is different from normal rift activity."

"Because it isn't rift activity. It's interdimensional fractures. The rift brings things from different points in space and time; a fracture will bring things from alternate realities."

Toshiko raised an eyebrow. "How do you know how to find a fracture?"

"I spent six years in an alternate reality where we did this sort of research at our version of Torchwood," he replied, shrugging.

Tosh looked impressed. "Wow. Your universe must be ahead of ours."

"Nah," Mickey said. "It's a matter of choice I think. You have a Prime Minister; we have a President. You've got airplanes; we have airships. You work on time travel, we work on alternate realities."

"That'll come in handy," Tosh commented.

"Yeah, it would, if I could get these reading to make sense!" He slapped the monitor in frustration, causing Tosh to send him a disapproving look.

"Those look like temporal spikes," she said, pointing.

"Oh is that what they are?" he asked. "I thought that might have been background radiation."

"No, that's definitely a spike in temporal activity. It's just built on something else…"

"Interdimensional radiation leakage. That I know. And I'm pretty sure I know what a spike in temporal energy means."

"So what does it mean when the two of them are put together?" Tosh finished for him.

They stared at the readings for a moment, lost in thoughts.

"Hey," Jack called from upstairs. "Do either of you know where Ianto went?"

"He and Martha went down to the medlab to try and coax Donna into eating," Mickey replied. "They've been down there a while- since before Gwen left for the night."

"Thanks," Jack said, turning to leave. Then he stopped. "Hey Tosh?"

Tosh looked up. "It's good to see around the Hub again."

"Much the same to you, Jack," Tosh replied sincerely. Jack smiled, and walked away in the direction of the medical bay.

* * *

"Look, I'm sorry, but I can't risk solids right now. I'll take some tea, if you have any, a superheated infusion of free radicals will do me some good, I'll wager, but as I've told you repeatedly, anything solid will just come right back up."

Ianto opened his eyes as the door swung in. Jack took a look at where Donna and Martha were engaged in yet another round of 'you need to eat sometime/ yes but not now' and sent him a questioning look. Ianto had mostly been there to tempt her into eating with cups of tea and coffee, but part-way through, Martha had changed the plan, and now he wasn't really sure why he was sticking around. Well, except for the fact that leaving now might cause Martha to fall off the deep end. Woman was dead scary when she wanted to be- not that this fact was making the slightest impression on Donna.

'Help,' he mouthed back. Jack grinned slyly.

"Martha," he said. She tore herself away from her argument to look at him.

"Yes?"

"Do you mind if I borrow Ianto for a moment?"

"Nope, go right ahead," Martha answered, already focusing on her next point. Ianto scrambled gratefully to his feet and was out the door like a shot. Jack grinned, and closed it behind him.

"Thank you," Ianto said.

"Well, if you weren't having fun, why didn't you just leave?" Jack asked.

"Because I have the sneaking suspicion that Martha might be able to kill me with her mind," Ianto explained. Jack laughed.

"I'm serious. She was still a strong, capable person when I first met her. I have a lot of respect for her. But lately, she's been a bit…intense. Dark. I'm a bit worried about her, to be honest."

Jack was silent for a long time, eyes shadowed. "The first time this happened," he began. "She more or less had to save the entire world by herself. It was…difficult. We knew that it would be from the start, but what she ended up doing- what she ended up seeing. She had to be intense. She had to be dark. And when it all passed she was able to let it all go, which is the most amazing thing she's done so far, if you ask me. And she's done some pretty incredible stuff."

"She's an incredible woman," Ianto answered.

"I think it might have something to do with the name," Jack said, whispering conspiratorially.

"Oh?"

" Yeah. You got to watch out for people who go by the name of Jones. You never really know what they're capable of."

"Sounds like a theory that requires further study."

* * *

Tom's shift was supposed to end at six- he didn't come home until nearly ten. It was in the morning too- there was nothing worse than coming out of an overlong shift and having to contend with the sun blazing in your eyes.

He had called Martha before leaving the clinic; nothing special, just a terse message to the effect of "I'm a live and not remembering the end of the world. He felt as though he should feel guilty for that; after all, it hadn't been so long ago that it seemed the world had ended, with trash cans flying every which way yelling "Exterminate! Exterminate!" and the entire planet moving and all. If something could phase his Martha after that, then it must be bad. Really, bad. But on the other hand, he really could not bring himself to care. He was exhausted, and still not too clear on what exactly would be happening should the world decide to go kablooey again. I mean, sure, it might involve aliens, but how was he supposed to be able to tell the difference between an apocalypse and the ETs just getting the date of Christmas wrong?

He moodily deposited his jacket on the back of the chair, and began to dig around in the fridge for leftovers. He found a bit of mash and ham, and set about heating it up, absently turning on the telly as he did so. Now how long did one put ham and mash in for?

"-Toclafane," a child's voice cooed. Tom turned around to face the television, watching as a floating black ball twinkled innocently for the camera. "Won't you play with me?"

"Fuck," he whispered, placing his would-be dinner on the counter and hurriedly making his was over to the phone. He needed to call Martha.

* * *

"Hello, Torchwood, Dr. Jones speaking."

"Something's wrong with Gwen."

"Rhys?" Martha asked. "What?"

"She's locked herself in the loo. She won't come out!"

"Did she say why?"

"She yelled something about having watched the world burn. She said that it was all over. She said- she said she'd watched me die."

Martha's heart stopped for a second as she remembered Gwen's numb features when they had first met, in the timeline created by the Master. How willing she had been to travel with her across the world. She hadn't been able to reconcile that Gwen with the one she'd met in this reality, until now.

"I'll be there in a minute," she said. "Don't try to force your way, just try to talk her down from the door. Tell her- tell her that it never happened. Just keep repeating that- _it never happened_. Just hold on, I'm coming as quick as I can."

She was in such a hurry to leave the Hub that she forgot her cell phone. She was already on the streets of Cardiff when it began to buzz.

* * *

_Owen's eyes met his, wide with panic as his hand braced against his neck, babbling, voicebox vibrating against his palm, **make it quick, I don't want to die, not like that, not like you**. Tosh's angry eyes met his own, the fire in them fading as he watched, extinguished by the flames that engulfed Japan. He turned back to Owen for a split second, only to find him missing and hear a sickening crack. Tosh's broken body lay on the floor. He moved to turn her over, only to find himself staring into Gwen's eyes as they bulged out of her head, lips turning blue. The fresh-faced guard sobbed and squeezed his fingers tighter around her throat. A voice whispered from behind him, **he was nice to you, that's why I picked him**. He turned around, furious, his fist making contact. He lashed out again and again and again until Ianto's body toppled onto him, soaked in sweat and blood and bruises he knew would match his fingers perfectly._

He gasped, sitting upright. Next to him, Ianto mumbled something unintelligible and pulled Jack back down on top of him. Jack rested his head back on the other man's chest, trying to match his breathing and slow his heart rate.

_This_ was real. _This_ was happening. He knew that, and, above all, he knew that the events in his nightmare _never_ did.


	5. Chapter 5

Gwen shivered and hunched down further into the tub as the sound of a passing car reached her ears. She waited, breath caught in her throat, for the sound of the explosion, for the screaming to start.

"Gwen, please…"

It didn't come. It was the sixth car to pass that morning, and _still_ the Toclofane hadn't come.

"I'm not dead Gwen. I never was dead, I promise…"

Maybe it really was over? But, no, that couldn't be. If it was over, that would mean having to rebuild, having to create some sort of long term existence. And Rhys was dead.

"Gwen, honey, please, open the door…"

Rhys was the one who was supposed to be with her through it all. She loved Jack as well, but Jack was full of adventure and excitement and all manner of things that would burn her alive if she held on to him too tightly. Rhys she could hold. Rhys was the one she came home to. Rhys was the one who reminded her of the people outside of Torchwood, of the people they were protecting. Rhys was the person who kept her alive and from slipping into the great black abyss that surrounded her job.

"Gwen, at least talk to me. You don't have come out, just let me know-"

"It's not supposed to be you, Rhys. You're supposed to be safe. You're not supposed to die, not like you did."

"I'm not dead, Gwen. It never happened."

Oh God, it sounded like him. It had looked like him too. But it couldn't be him, not when she'd last seen him cut to pieces in the middle of the street…

"I didn't die, Gwen. I'm still here, I didn't die," Rhys assured her.

She wanted to believe it. But every time she thought about him she could feel his blood on her hands and smell the ash in the air and feel the gravel digging into her knees and hear the sound of giggling from overhead and taste death in her mouth.

"Oh thank God you're here. She still won't come out."

It had never really left her, that taste. It didn't help that it was a distinctive taste as well: something like iron and charcoal, with a citrusy sort of tang around the edges. She'd tried, too. Gargled every bit of mouthwash she could get her hands on, drank coffee after coffee while it was scalding hot until Ianto refused to make her any more. Then she and Owen had gotten spectacularly drunk and loud and ended up vomiting all over the hub. And still, she could taste death coating her tongue.

"Gwen. Gwen, it's Martha. Martha Jones."

She knew that name. She'd been wanted by the Prime Minister- by the Master. He'd been angry at her escape, desperate for her return.

"He's afraid of her," Ianto had observed. "I wonder why?"

"Gwen, I want you to think- can you remember the date? Do you know what day it is?"

What kind of question was that? Of course she had no idea what day it was, the world had ended. What did arbitrary things like dates mean anymore?

_15 August, 2009_, her mind supplied easily, however.

Except it wasn't, was it? It was sometime in April, 2008. Wasn't it?

April 2008. They'd gotten a dodgy order to head for the Himalayas. They made it look like they went; the locked down the Hub and watched as the world burned. Or had they just seen the President die, and Jack disappear into nothingness again?

Gwen opened the door, nearly walking into Rhys. Rhys, who had died. Rhys, who had proposed to her while lying down, had married her, had argued with her for her future and her soul.

"How is that possible?" she asked. "I remember but-"

It all swirled around in her head, confusing and overwhelming and she had to lean against the door jamb for a moment until the world stopped spinning.

"How can that-" she began, but stopped. She had memories in her head, but they never happened. Except they did. Or maybe they were going to. No, it was somewhere between the two…

"I'm remembering the timeline we're merging with," she stated, more to herself than anything else.

It came as a surprise when Martha, standing unnoticed behind Rhys, answered her with a simple "Yes."

"Oh God," she moaned. Her eyes closed, she took a deep shuddering breath and suddenly Rhys was there, holding her close. She shifted her weight so that she was leaning on him. "Oh, God…"

"We're going to stop this," Martha promised. "We're going to set things right."

* * *

Mickey was in the Hub when Martha returned. He looked up from the computer, bleary-eyed and rumpled. "How's Gwen?" he asked.

"She's remembering," Martha answered simply. "She forgot this timeline temporarily; it was overwhelmed, I think, with the power of the newer memories. I've recommended she take a few hours to get her head around them before she returns to the Hub- I'll check her over once she gets here."

"But she remembers both realities?" Mickey asked.

"Yes," Martha replied.

"Okay, good, that fits," Mickey muttered, typing out some more notes on the computer. "I think I know what's happening now- Tosh is in and out, she helps- but how the hell we're going to fix this is a whole other animal."

"What _is_ happening?" Martha asked. "There's just so much about this situation that doesn't add up…"

"Well, first off, you have to think about that year as a separate, physical, movable object. It's its own entity," he began.

Martha's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. "Okay," she drawled in a tone that suggested that what he was saying made no sense whatsoever.

"No, really. From what Tosh has told me, quantum locking an event requires cutting a sequence events out of the time-space continuum, so that no amount of vortex manipulation can allow anything to get in or out of it. And then she launched into this long winded explanation of how people could get into and out of a series of events, which we're going to skip over because I still don't understand the half of it and it doesn't really matter in this situation anyway."

Martha smiled. "You're not exactly increasing my confidence here."

"Hey, you try learning every bit of temporal mechanics in three months and see how you do then," Mickey protested. "It took me _years_ to understand the physics behind reality jumping, and that was, believe it or not, a lot more straight-forward than time travel. And time travel is much, much less complicated than quantum locks."

"How so?"

"Well, you know how I said to imagine the other timeline as a physical entity? Well, it's not the physical part of the timeline you need to worry about, so much as the temporal part. It all took place in the same physical coordinates we live on now, essentially, so the shape of the timeline is defined by the passage of time within it. So May's in one corner, August is in another, Octobers in between the two and the annual Christmas invasion is on another end entirely…"

"I'll take your word for it," Martha said, nodding doubtfully.

"So, anyway, when something gets quantum locked, it becomes a sort of self contained reality, floating in the time stream. Since it isn't anchored anywhere, there's no way to move outside of it into other realities. But somehow, this time, a bit of that reality got caught on this one, which is why the dates aren't matching up…"

"The dates aren't matching up?" Martha asked.

"Yeah. For Tosh and Owen it's still June of 2008, and they're a few hours out of synch with each other. When other things crop up, we won't be able to predict when in the timeline they'll come from. For some people, it'll be day one. For others, day three hundred and sixty-five."

"I probably should have insisted Gwen tell me what day she thought it was, then," Martha sighed, wincing.

"I won't say no to any information you have, but at this point I have no idea how I'd use it," Mickey grumbled. "I mean, obviously I'm looking for a way to push that reality out of this one, but I have no idea how I'd manage it."

"Well, I don't either, if that helps," she comforted him.

He laughed. "Honestly? I wouldn't mind if you did. Not exactly a time for ego, is it now?"

"No, I suppose not," Martha laughed. "Speaking of ego, do you know where Jack went to? I want to check in with him before I try to force Donna into eating some lunch."

Mickey shrugged. "He and Ianto disappeared into his office some time after dawn, and I haven't seen either of them since, so…"

As though to refute his words, the door to Jack's office opened, and Ianto walked out, self-consciously running his hand over his head in an attempt to rid himself of bed head. Catching sight of the two of him, he smiled in greeting. "Afternoon. I'm ordering lunch- how would you like your pizza?"

* * *

Donna's stomach growled. She ignored it, and focused on her memories one last time.

The entire life of Donna Noble? Check.

Every last precious piece of Gallifrey? Check and double check. It was selfish, when there were more useful things she could have been using the memory space for, but when memory was the only thing left…

The Master. All of the battles he and the Doctor had fought together, both against each other and side by side? Check. Not pleasant memories, by any stretch of the imagination, but necessary.

How to operate the sonic screwdriver? Check and bloody hell, did that thing ever come with a lot of settings.

Every last bit of temporal and reality jumping mechanics and engineering? Just barely check, but manageable.

End of list. And with some space left over as well.

There had been a lot she was missing, almost all of it good memories or useful information, and many times a combination of both. But she was no longer fragmented- no longer on the verge of insanity or death. Always a cheerful place to be, well away from insanity and death, that is.

And now, Dr. Donna was ready to face the world. Well, if she could simply force her headache away and get her eyes to open, she would be, at least.

* * *

"Martha," Jack greeted her as she walked in the room. He didn't bother looking away from the loading screen.

"Did you let Ianto get any sleep this morning?" she asked bluntly. Ow. Okay, so she wanted his attention for this.

"Yes. He got a solid five hours, and was very displeased at me for letting him sleep that long," Jack replied, putting enough bite in his tone to let her know that he found the question insulting. Although, when he thought about it, he _was_ flattered that she thought he had that sort of stamina.

Martha had the grace to look abashed, but there was a bit of steel in her eyes that let him know that she wasn't exactly sorry. "I'm just checking in. And speaking of which, I'm considering putting Donna on feeding tubes."

"What?" he asked, all attention now diverted from the computer. "What now? What for?"

"She not eating. She hasn't had anything solid for nearly three days now, and I'm worried about her health," Martha explained.

"I thought she said that she couldn't eat solids," Jack pointed out.

"Yes, repeatedly. That doesn't change the fact that if she keeps starving herself there are going to be serious consequences."

"The Doctor knows what he's doing," he answered.

"She's not the Doctor, Jack. And even if she were… you know how he can get sometimes," she sighed. "She won't be happy with it, but it's really for the best if she gets something in her."

Jack mulled this over for a moment. "Give her a day."

"Jack-"

"I've starved to death before. It's not going to become debilitating until day five. Physically, she can afford another twenty-four hours," Jack offered. He was torn between vindication and self-loathing when she flinched at the mention of his being killed. "And you know as well as I do that the condition of her body isn't really the priority here."

Martha's mouth pressed into a thin straight line. "I don't like it."

"Neither do I, to be honest," Jack admitted. "But you know what the stakes are. The world's not going to survive Harold Saxon again."

Martha nodded. "I'm not sure I'd survive Harold Saxon again."

"Don't say that," Jack ordered. Martha was what had saved them last time. If she lost hope…

"No, I'm serious. I'm not sure I could walk the earth again. I'm not even sure that would work. If the timelines merge, will the Doctor still be there, waiting? Would Donna be enough if he wasn't? Would there still be a countdown to use? UNIT took out the psychic components to Archangel long ago- would they reappear along with the Toclafane and the Valiant?"

"I don't know," Jack answered honestly. He was trying not to think about it- about having to go back to living through the same apocalypse twice. "If it's any consolation, even in the worst case scenario, I'll get him eventually."

Martha looked pained by the very thought. "You might have to wait a long time."

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

The Master tapped his hands idly against the chair. _Onetwothreefour. Onetwothreefour. Onetwothreefour._ Not long now.

He'd known going into this that when the time came, the Doctor and his merry band of followers would go after the paradox machine. What else could they do? Nothing short of that would assure a victory, because it was the only way this could end without his death, the only way the world didn't change because of him. Of course, the reversal of time wouldn't be perfect, but retconing all those on the planet's surface and quantum locking his beautiful new world would seem like a pretty good idea to the Doctor, he was sure of it. Enough to overlook the victims he had kept aboard the Valiant still retaining their memories and their scars.

It was this knowledge that kept him from panicking after the paradox machine had disappeared from his ship. After a lot of things had disappeared, to be honest. The Jones, the Freak, the Doctor, all missing, and the planet below them in a state of flux.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened- he'd been defeated, and that long victorious year had been deleted from history.

Except for the part when he was still around.

Despite the common belief, quantum locks weren't infallible. If it could be done, then undone, then it could also be redone. He would have no way of figuring out how exactly to do that after the Doctor had won; Lucy, bless her creatively insane heart, would see to that. But he had made certain discreet inquiries and had made an important discovery; all quantum locked events occupied the same little niche in the fabric of the universe. Break the seal on one, and they could all re-enter it the edges of their timeline caught on another. It was possible, with some modifications to the TARDIS, to ensure that when that happened his reality would catch along the normal time stream. Integration would be a spotty and potentially incomplete process, but it beat defeat by a long shot.

He wondered, idly, which event it had been. The Time War, probably. Perhaps the Daleks, looking to try and conquer the galaxy again. Annoying buggers- and dull too. Far too predictable enemies for his tastes. They were persistent though, he would give them that.

Far more entertaining, if less likely, was the thought that it was the Doctor who had done it. Tired of being the Last of the Time Lord, maybe; his current incarnation seemed prone to bouts of both madness and wallowing. It wasn't hard to imagine him becoming desperate enough to risk the consequences breaking a quantum lock would bring. And there would be _such_ consequences. He'd make sure of that, just for him.

Watching as the planet convulsed in the window, Japan burning one minute, Australia freezing the next, he began to hum happily to himself. _Here come the drum, here come the drums…_

It didn't really matter what the reason was in the end. He was coming back- he was _winning_- and the Doctor was going to get the surprise of his lifetimes.

* * *

Pressing the small purple button located one the bottom left-hand corner of the screen prevents the Master from killing Jack for the seventy trillionth time. Something to keep in mind.


End file.
